


Umbrella Planet

by azkabuns



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV), Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Crossover, John Silver - Freeform, John Silver just wants some treasure, Vanya Hargreeves - Freeform, Vanya can't catch a break, even on another planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-25 00:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azkabuns/pseuds/azkabuns
Summary: John hears a rumour (Alison Hargreeves pun not intended) and chases it down. Vanya just wants to play her damn violin.[Written for a fanfiction crossover challenge on Shadowplay, John Silver x Vanya Hargreeves.]





	Umbrella Planet

John loved the orchestra. The melodic waves of so many different instruments coming together reminded him of the ebb and flow of the tides in space, the pulls and pushes of each star roiling around one another as the ships sailed closer. To look at him, though, no one in their right mind would have thought so, with his hulking stature and his gruff voice, not to mention the vicious looking robotics of his right arm. Hell, his whole right side was robotic. How could a _cyborg_ appreciate such an ethereal, human thing as music?  
  
But then… it was easy to forget that cyborgs weren’t born, that they’d always started off as wholly something else. Even though at times it felt as though his entire life had been dedicated to treasure hunting, John could still remember when he’d been a full blooded Ursid, no metal parts at all. When he’d travelled just for the fun of it, had enjoyed live music for the simple joy it brought to feel a beat reverberate against his own beating heart.  
  
These days, the only songs he heard were crude pirate shanties and the twisting sharp sounds of the ship’s hammered old harpsichord, and although he loved them as much as his crew did, there was only so much of it he could take before he had to find port and seek out something a bit more _real_; a reminder of life before the machine.  
  
There was no point trying to articulate this into words his crew would understand, so when the information he’d been waiting for came in and named the Music Hall as a location, John had decided to go alone. This way, he could enjoy a performance and let the act of being feared Captain Silver, hunter of Treasure Planet and slayer of enemies, recede for an hour or so.  
  
The weapon was brand new, something powerful thrust out of time and space, and John wanted it. Somewhere at the other end of the universe, rumour had it there’d been a cataclysmic event and something powerful had been chewed up and spat out on Montressor, a sparsely inhabited mining planet. So far, John’s only lead was the hearsay that a violinist knew where it was. His source had watched her for days and finally been able to tell John that if he wanted to catch her alone without having to track through miles and miles of flat Montressor terrain, he’d definitely find her at the Music Hall on the Space Port.  
  
_“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.”_  
  
John sat high in the rafters, an unobstructed if far away view of the stage and all the musicians. The distance wasn’t a problem for him, not with his cybernetic eye, and he focused immediately on the dark haired, pale skinned woman in the second row of violinists. A quick scan of her with his thermal vision and x-ray revealed that she definitely had been in the proximity of something with intense nuclear power. So – she didn’t just know where the weapon was, it was highly likely that she actually _had_ it.  
  
This realisation made it slightly more difficult to be able to relax and enjoy the music, beautiful as it was, and John felt antsy and impatient. There was no way he’d be able to wait until the end of the performance to speak with her. The interval was upcoming, so he left the auditorium, deciding to lay in wait backstage instead where he could get her on her own. In John’s experience, nothing was more compelling than a man of his full stature stepping out from the shadows of a room demanding answers…  
  
She was smaller up close, only just tall enough for her to be at eye level with his elbow. She walked with rounded shoulders, trying to be unnoticeable and unobtrusive but to no avail - little did she know she’d been in John’s crosshairs for a while.  
  
When the door to the dressing room closed behind her, John shifted in the armchair he’d chosen in the corner of the room and immediately drew her attention. Her posture tightened and her eyes flashed, unsure what to make of him; half machine, half organic but entirely pirate. For extra effect, John had made sure to let the hilt of his cutlass show from his belt.  
  
“Ms Hargreeves,” He rumbled, knowing her name only because he’d read it in the free program. Vanya Hargreeves, second chair. “A stunning performance, I must tell ye.”  
  
Vanya stayed put, back against the door and one hand on the knob. “You shouldn’t be back here.” Her voice didn’t tremble but there was almost a shudder to it, as though she was making effort to hold herself together.  
  
“I know, I know. I’ll be gone, out of your hair, just as soon as you give me what I’m looking for.” John spoke in his most reasonable tone, the warm and friendly one he used with law enforcement or the more suspicious ship captains. “Something came through space and ended up on this here planet and I’ve got it on good authority that _you_ have it. So hand it over and you can go into your second act with all your fingers.”  
  
His metal eye glinted and whirred, scanning her again and getting the same reading- no, it was different, more glowing. Her thermal signature had shifted, grown hotter although the temperature in the dressing room was the same as the rest of the hall. John flexed his robotic fingers, making sure everything was moving perfectly should he need to swap out for something more intimidating.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanya said, forcing herself to let go of the door and surreptitiously wiping her clammy palm on her trousers. _Keep it together, don’t lose control._ Affecting as calm a demeanour as she could, she stepped over to the table and poured herself a glass of water, focusing on the coolness of the glass in her grip and the steady slosh of the liquid as it fell from the carafe. She heard, too, the sound of the cyborg rising to his feet, the click and whir of his metal joints.  
  
“Enough games, I know you have it.” John narrowed his eyes and stepped towards Vanya as she turned around, hemming her in against the table with his sheer size. “I can see it on you,” He tapped a fingertip next to his cybernetic eye which buzzed as it focused on her. “Give me the weapon, Vanya, and I’ll make good on my promise to leave you with all your fingers – I may look like a common pirate but even I know you need those to play your precious violin.”  
  
Still gripping the glass and not yet drinking from it, Vanya met his asymmetrical gaze. “What weapon, I don’t have anything. I’m just a violinist.” _Say it enough and you might believe it too._ Unfortunately, John didn’t believe it at all and he slammed his fist – the real, fleshy one – down onto the table, bent now at the waist so his face was savagely close to hers.  
  
“Give it. To me.” He gritted out, raising his cybernetic arm and slowly rotating the gears so that she could watch as it changed from being a hand to being an impossibly sharp, viciously serrated knife. He brought it down towards her hand, slowly at first to give her time to change her answer, but when her protest came again – “There is no weapon!” – he moved faster.  
  
But not fast enough.  
  
A force like a plasmaball hit him squarely in the chest and he was propelled backwards across the room with a crash, knocking over the sofa and creating a huge, John-sized dent in the wall.  
  
“There is no weapon!” Vanya cried out again, both her hands empty and at her sides slightly raised with palms outwards. “You’re not _listening_ to me!” John was pummelled again but this time when he hit the wall, he didn’t fall back down to the floor. He stayed where he was, pinned and staring at this small, pale girl with both eyes, the robotic one frantically trying to scan for what threat might be being used against him.  
  
Vanya advanced two steps forwards and the force on John’s chest grew heavier. Her eyes were bright and clear, but now instead of brown the irises looked icy white.  
  
“I _am_ the weapon.”


End file.
